I’m so easily manipulated. I know this about myself. You know it about me. And, more to the point, homoerotic wrestling companies know it. Not me, personally, of course. I’m not quite that much of a narcissist to believe that Rock Hard Wrestling
is targeting me, personally, when they dangle a fresh,, blond, blue-eyed, teeth for days, muscleboy with a Southern accent in their newest match. But still, I see the likes of Travis Storm
ready to go pec-to-pec with Wyoming farmboy Cody Nelson
(I made up the Wyoming farmboy bit
… it works for me), and I’m helpless. I watch my hand instantly start to stretch around to my back pocket. I swear, it has a mind of its own, as it grabs my wallet and pulls out my credit card. “Stop it,” I say to my hand. “I need to stick to my budget,” I tell it.
Two hellish download minutes later, and I’m still pleading with my possessed hand. “No!” I say. “I can’t afford it now that RHW has inflated their download prices to $14.95,” I argue. “Stop it!” I insist. Then I see Travis and Cody in a sweet little verbal sparring session that morphs into a posedown and physique comparison. “Stop… I mean, don’t stop,” I find myself wavering. The boys start a shoving match that quickly turns into an opening salvo of hot muscle beatdown from my Wyoming farmboy. Cody hooks his arm between Travis’ legs and scoops the hot young thing up in his arms, his hand cupping the astonishingly fine, tight little ass of the Southern boy in white. Don’t stop, I find myself pleading.
Am I the only one who talks to my hand? Anyway… I realize that one reason I so frequently find myself helpless against the wiles of RHW is that they specialize in ring action. I’m growing into more and more of a specifically ring fetish fan, I think. Another reason I keep taking the plunge with RHW is because in the past nine months or so, while their production quality has remained astonishingly high (multiple HD cameras, excellent angles, extremely skilled editing and packaging), the quality of the wrestling performances has been steadily on the rise. This Cody vs. Travis bout is no exception. Whereas I wanted to personally drop kick Cody’s gorgeous ass out of the ring in his first bout, due to some seriously weak salesmanship at several points, Cody is making undeniable progress. He still has a handful of moments that stretch even my ability to suspend disbelief. A delightful schoolboy pin turns disappointing when Cody proposes to pound the rookie’s pecs with obviously, literally, pulled punches. But overall, Cody has grown quick on his feet, delivering hot verbal humiliation, and showing a command of his opponent’s body that’s easily tripping my homoerotic wrestling kink tastes. I’d still love to see Cody seriously sell his own suffering. On more than one occasion, he’s on the short end of the stick, breathless and writhing on his back, seemingly barely able to move as Travis struts and taunts, and Cody suddenly snaps a quick, measured comeback without any hint of pain in his voice. This is subtle, I know, but it snags my attention.
While Cody appears to be working up a badboy character, including a sweet, pleased-with-himself low blow, I can’t take my eyes off of Travis (which is saying something, considering my well-documented lust for Cody’s ass and nipples). Travis isn’t as big as Cody, despite his early verbal volleys to the contrary. He’s clearly not as strong. He’s not quite as classically handsome. And still, he grabs hold of my attention with both hands and strokes my kink like a seasoned pro. First of all, he has a mouthful of teeth. I know that most of us, literally, have a mouthful of teeth, but just take a look at this boy, and you’ll know what I mean. When he’s strutting and when he’s suffering, he’s got teeth for days and there’s something absolutely gorgeous about that. He also has a nice command and control of his own body that’s highly entertaining to watch. He has a green edge to him, by all means, but he sells his grunting stomps and kicks even better than Cody. At the point that Cody has Travis legs under his arms and moves to slip him to his stomach to apply one of several Boston Crabs in this match, Travis convincingly fights it for a moment, defying his muscleboy opponent. Finally, Cody twists a fraction harder, and Travis stunningly levitates, flips, and lands with a grunt in a way that makes this potentially throw away moment slick, professional, and absolutely believable. I’ll buy this Travis is a rookie, but only if I also get the backstory that he’s a freaking pro-wrestling prodigy who takes to this like Mozart on the piano.
Cody has two precious moments in this match that are going to continue to haunt my dreams. First, he applies two Boston Crabs over the course of the 20 minutes it takes these boys to settle who’s on top. Here’s where Cody seriously transforms what could be a relatively amateur version of a pro moment into a profoundly arousing homoerotic thrill. He squats low, with Cody’s ankles locked tightly under his arms. Then, with beautiful self-possession, he sticks his chest out, pulls his shoulders back, and pries the muscleboy hips off the canvas beneath him. I just about can’t take my eyes off Travis’ ass in this moment. Whoever came up with the idea that this stud should go commando underneath his white trunks deserves a major raise (I hope it was Travis). But wait, it’s just a little better than that, even. The second time he snaps on a Boston Crab, squatting in that ass-tastic position, Travis rocks forward and back, over and over, cranking the pressure on Cody’s lower back and relishing every second of his dominance.
Competing for the most hauntingly hot image of this match is Travis snapping on a figure-4 body scissors on Cody that makes the farmboy grunt hard. Completely controlling his opponent’s back, Travis is thrilled with himself, alternating choking with his arms and squeezing the air out of Cody’s lungs with his legs. Another nearly throw away moment has Travis lace his fingers behind his head, leaning back, and doing some quick crunches with Cody squirming and struggling between his legs. My… oh… my….
Travis clearly went to the same wrestling school Cody did, at least so far as he learned that head-scratching version of a schoolboy pec pounding that looks like nothing other than some weak-ass back-handed tapping on Cody’s thick pecs (claw those massive handfuls of meat!!!). But all in all, I’m officially apologizing to my hand right here and now. Hand, you were right all along. This was a match that I’m very happy I didn’t pass up.